


Aviophobia

by I_write_instead_of_sleeping (orphan_account)



Series: Dumpster Fire of Queen angst [7]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear of Flying, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Insecurity, M/M, Men Crying, Panic Attacks, Roger has anxiety, Roger is kind of an asshole, Roger needs a hug, Secrets, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/I_write_instead_of_sleeping
Summary: Roger Taylor loves many things. Roger loves women. Roger loves drinks. Roger loves drumming. But there are also things that Roger Taylor does not love. Roger does not love being annoyed. Roger does not love showing his sensitive side (which he does in fact have).But among all of those things, Roger hated, well, more liked downright feared, one thing the absolute most.Flying.*******************AKA: Roger needs to know it's okay to be scared. The band helps him with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Was craving some Roger angst and I couldn't find any that I haven't already read, so I figured I should give it a go! Wrote this just so I can have some fluffy angsty boys and thought I should share it. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are appreciated, my soul just lights up whenever a new comment hits my inbox!
> 
> <3 <3 <3

Roger Taylor loves many things. Roger loves women. Roger loves drinks. Roger loves drumming. But there are also things that Roger Taylor does not love. Roger does not love being annoyed. Roger does not love showing his sensitive side _ (which he does in fact have). _

 

But among all of those things, Roger hated, well, more liked downright  _ feared  _  one thing the absolute most.

 

Flying. 

 

For many people, flying on a plane, a jet, is just a normal thing: you buy a ticket, you get on the plane and in a handful of hours, you arrive at your destination. But just the  _ thought _ of getting on one of those flying deathtraps made the drummer sick. The last time he ever went on a plane was when he was a teenager,  _ long _ before he was in Queen, and he swore he would never set foot in one again. 

 

He was anxious, sick, shaky, and he had an ongoing headache for two days after he landed. He thought he was going to  _ die _ on that plane, being suffocated by how many people were squished into one thing and he couldn’t stop thinking that they could the fact that they could crash and burn anytime. 

 

The  _ ocean _ was directly under him in a giant deathtrap with screaming children, no air, the probability of  _ death,  _ and  __ he was constantly riddled with fear whenever something on that plane jolted, the wings creaked, or the plane swooped just a little too quickly. Not to mention that he got airsick. 

 

He just couldn’t handle it. 

 

He thought he would  _ never _ have to fly again. Why  _ would _ he? And when he joined Queen, the fear was long forgotten. He knew becoming famous most likely meant going to many other places involving flight, but he thought he’d be prepared when the time came.

 

He was wrong. He was  _ very _ wrong. The moment Freddie uttered the words “we’re flying to Japan," Roger felt like he couldn’t breathe.

 

***************************************************

“And how is your new album coming along?," one of the reporters asked, pressing a mic into their faces. 

 

“Oh, it’s just going lovely. Expect it sometime in the new year, my dears!," Freddie replied, ignoring the flash of cameras from all corners of the room. 

 

“And how do you feel about the flight to Japan?”

 

Roger felt his breath start to quicken. He felt his chest clench. He did the only thing he thought to do at that moment.  _ Get angry _ . 

 

“What the fuck do you mean? Of course we’re all excited, what kind of a question is that?" Roger scoffed. Brian nudged his arm, telling him to tone it down a bit. He didn’t.

 

“And what kind of a jet are you flying on?”

 

“Why the fuck would  _ I  _ know that? Why don’t you ask the fucking company or maybe not ask at all because it’s a fucking  **_JET_ ** ! Ask a question worth my fucking time!”

 

The press  _ exploded _ , catching his moment of rage on camera as he continued with his fit. The press continued probing him until security pushed them through a back door and into a limo. Everyone was silent for a moment. 

 

“Well, that was a little harsh, Roger. Maybe  _ not _ yell at the reporters about planes next time?" John quipped. Roger was  _ not _ in the mood for joking around. He was in the mood for going home, curling up in a ball in his room, and trying not to cry.

 

“Oh, who even fucking cares about planes?" Roger muttered, clenching his fists, “the press are all just morons wasting our fucking time.”

 

The car was silent until Brian nudged Freddie and John nodded in understanding at the other two. Roger aggressively ripped off his sunglasses and started cleaning them.

 

“Roger darling," Freddie said quietly, “I don’t think this is just about the press, is it?” 

 

He stopped cleaning his glasses, not trusting his hands to remain steady. Roger felt himself tense up next to Freddie. He slipped on his words, not really sure how to turn the conversation away from the topic. 

 

“I-wh-what the hell are you talking about? How could you think that-”

 

Roger was cut off by Freddie’s finger over his lips, signaling for him to stop making excuses. John and Brian inched closer to the two of them. 

 

“Darling, we’ve seen how you’ve been acting lately. Something’s wrong, dear. We just want to know  _ what _ and how we can help you," Freddie hummed, a hand on Roger’s back. 

 

Roger suddenly felt a surge of anger, his face flooded with embarrassment. 

 

“Are you calling me  _ weak? _ You think that I can’t control my emotions, or think that I should ‘talk about my feelings’ and other girly shit like that?  Fuck off, I can take care of myself," he snarled, feeling his chest tighten.

 

“Darling, talking about your feelings is normal, it’s not girly at all!," Freddie exclaimed, “why would you think that?”

 

Roger stayed silent. 

 

“It’s a perfectly normal thing to do, Roger." John said. Roger frowned. 

 

“Well, sorry I’m not as  _ sensitive  _ as you and Fred, you  _ always _ have to share how you feel, huh?" Roger sneered, “And of course, who doesn’t want to be as ‘sad’ as Bri. Am I not allowed to just be bothered about something and keep it to myself?”

 

John turned his head to look out the window and Brian looked at the ground. Freddie looked angered.

 

“That was uncalled for," Freddie said, gritting his teeth, “we’re just trying to help you. But of course, classic  _ stubborn  _ Roger refuses to accept any means of help and decides to ‘keep it all to himself’ until he ends up lashing out on people for no fucking reason and damaging our fucking reputation!”

 

Freddie’s voice rose to almost a yell and Roger felt his hands start to shake. 

 

“We’re flying to Japan in three fucking days and  _ this _ is how you want to start it? A fucking petty fight because you won’t tell us what’s wrong?!" Freddie boomed. Roger felt like a hand was constricting his throat.  _ Flying in three days. No. Fuck.  _ He needed out.

 

“Roger..” Freddie said, softer this time. But Roger wasn’t listening. He was only listening to the beating of his heart and the mantra in his head,  _ three days. Flying in three days.  _

 

“Fuck you!" was all Roger snarled before yelling at the limo driver to stop as he jumped out of the car and onto the busy sidewalk. 

 

“That bastard," Freddie growled, rubbing his temples. 

 

“I know what he said wasn’t the nicest, but he’s probably just overwhelmed, Fred," John finally said. 

 

“Deaky’s right. But I’m still gonna scold that wanker when he gets home," Brian said, chuckling. 

 

***********************************   
Roger briskly walked through the streets, trying to calm down. 

 

_ Three days. They were flying in three days.  _

 

_ I’m going to step on that plane and be a fucking mess. There’s no way I can do it. And I can’t tell the band, they’ll…,  _ Roger thought to himself, running a hand through his blonde hair.

 

He stopped in front of their studio by instinct. Taking off his sunglasses, he fished some keys out of his pocket, and opened the door, glad to be alone for once. 

 

As soon as he stepped foot inside, he sighed. He needed water. 

 

After taking a cold bottle from the mini fridge, he sat down at the small table, and tried to calm down. 

 

“I’m a fucking mess," he whispered to himself, feeling his eyes gloss over, “everyone’s pissed at me, and there’s no  _ way _ I’m telling them why…”

 

Remembering his outbursts from earlier, he felt his anxiety spike.  _ This _ , this whole thing was embarrassing. He couldn’t handle fucking  _ airplanes _ , and he let himself get out of control because of one little question. And now thanks to his ‘not so little’ problem that he refused to talk about, he had both the press, and the rest of the band on his bad side. 

 

“Jesus, what am I gonna do?’, he whispered, feeling his eyes well up with tears. His chest clenched so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was back on that plane, suffocating. 

 

Breathing heavily, Roger stood up and started rigorously pacing the studio, trying to get himself to calm down. 

 

“1..2..3," he began whispering to himself, knowing that his efforts were probably in vain. 

 

“4..5..6..7..”

 

He took the rest of his water and gulped it down, sitting back down at the table. 

 

“8...9…”

 

“10..," he breathed out shakily. His throat still felt like someone was choking him, but his hands were somewhat steady, and his head had stopped pounding.

 

He considered going back and explaining it to the band, they  _ did _ want him to tell them what was going on. But the thing he hated most, besides flying of course, was  _ talking.  _

 

Sure, Roger loved to talk about himself, but rarely shared insecurities or worries with the band. Or anyone, really. Socially, he was always happy, pumped, or angry. Never once had he projected how sad he was, or opened up about any insecurities or anxiety he held within him. 

 

And  _ crying.  _ Roger would just about drop dead of embarrassment if he so slightly shed a single tear in front of anyone. 

 

The only people who have seen him cry are his parents and his sister. And that was back when he was a little kid. Hell, he even refused to cry in front of himself. He thought of it as a sign of weakness. 

 

Well, there was  _ Brian. _ That man had seen him break down once in a while, mostly during Smile-era. But as far as Brian knew, he stopped having panic attacks years ago. He didn’t dare to project his weakness on the rest of the band, especially now that they were just getting famous. 

 

But he envied Freddie and Deaky, able to cry so freely, feel  _ emotion _ so freely, and  _ no one cared. _ And Brian had such a tendency to get very, very sad, and even did cry once or twice, but everyone was allowed to get sad. 

 

Well, except for  _ him _ , apparently. He wouldn’t let himself be shone in that light in front of the people he knew. Society was his fear, but his thoughts were his barrier. The walls he built up weren’t going to crumble down so easily.

 

But sitting there in the studio, surrounded by instruments and reminders of what to come, he couldn’t help but feel his mind drift off again and his stomach starting to rail. He felt horrible about what he said to the band. He felt  _ guilt _ most of all. 

 

“I can’t do this anymore...," he whispered, feeling his hands start to shake.

 

*************************************

 

It had been hours. Roger had missed the band meeting at the flat, and the dinner they were all supposed to go to together. Miami was not the happiest, and to be honest, the band was starting to get pissed off. 

 

That is, they  _ would _ be pissed if they knew where Roger was. What was eating them now was worry. Where could he be? They  _ knew _ that he couldn’t go running off like this, he knew better. 

 

So what could be wrong?

 

“He’s probably out partying somewhere, you know him," John said, the three of them chilling in the living room. He was working on tour arrangements. 

 

“Yes darling, but he did seem rather off today, didn’t he?," Freddie said, his voice thick with worry, trying his best to mask it. He was holding Delilah on his lap while also clicking through channels.

 

“He just seemed...angry. More anxious than usual. It’s not like him to get  _ that  _ anxious over nothing….but he  _ is _ Roger, afterall," Brian contemplated, folding his clothes neatly into a suitcase, “He’s gonna get an earful when he finally gets back. Damn him, skipping out on band meetings right before a tour!”

 

“Yes, I just hope he’s back soon…," Deaky replied. 

 

Like magic, the door swung open just as Freddie clicked off the tv. Roger burst through the door, jacket slung around his back and hair disheveled. 

 

“And look who finally decided to show up!," Brian said mockingly, raising his arms up from his folding, “and where exactly have  _ you _ been?”

 

Roger dropped his jacket and rocked back and forth nervously on his heels, clearing his throat.

 

“Studio," he mumbled almost breathlessly. He still felt that choked feeling in the back of his throat. 

 

Freddie looked up in confusion, placing Delilah next to him and sitting upright on the couch. 

 

“Darling, I understand that the studio is like a second home, but you were there for... _ 4 hours? _ ”

 

Roger ran a hand quickly through his hair, looking around the room frantically. He could barely function with all this fight or flight adrenaline in his system. 

 

“Uhm..has it been? Must have lost track of time," he said, quickly and quietly, ducking his head down and looking at his shoes. 

 

“Darling, what you said to us earlier was not the nicest, and I do believe you’ve gone a bit too far today, but that’s not an excuse for missing dinner and meetings right before a trip. Have you even packed for the flight yet?”

 

The flight.  _ The flight.  _

 

Immediately, Roger’s thoughts went to the plane, crashing, too high up, too many people, not enough air, too much-

 

“Roger, are you listening?," Deaky asked, eyebrow raised as if irritated. Even  _ Deaky _ sounded pissed off. Roger felt his stomach drop. The band must have seen the drummer’s reaction, because each of their expressions softened just slightly. Freddie stood up and frowned at the display, taking a cautious step forward. Roger flinched.

 

“Darling,  _ clearly _ there’s something bothering you. And we want to help. We’re all feeling quite overwhelmed with this whole trip thing, but we’re here to talk," Freddie said, his soft eyes piercing through the drummer. 

 

Roger felt guilt again, he felt horrible about how he acted earlier, he felt horrible about what he said, and he felt horrible about the fact that he was  _ afraid _ . 

 

_ This is the band. They can help you. They won’t make fun of you. They’re family. _

 

But he couldn’t tell them what was going on. He just..couldn’t. 

 

Roger pushed Freddie back, earning glares from the other bandmates. Freddie’s expression hardened. 

 

“Fuck off," he growled, glaring at the three of them, “why would I tell you guys anything? If I’m  _ afraid _ of something, I’ll deal with it myself”

 

“Roger I swear to----wait. You’re... _ afraid _ of something?," Deaky asked, taking a step forward. 

 

_ Shit.  _

 

_ Shit-shit-shit. This is not good.  _

 

Everyone’s expression softened towards the drummer as he felt his face heat up. He immediately regretted what he blurted out. 

 

“Wha-what are you talking about? Of course not... W-why would I be-" Roger cursed himself as he fumbled with his words, fidgeting with his hands nervously. 

 

“Darling, are you... _ scared _ ?," Freddie asked quietly. In that warm,  _ concerned _ voice. The sympathetic voice that made just about anyone melt at the sound. Roger wanted to punch himself right then and there. He fucked up. He felt the heat rise to his eyes and tears start to form. He let out a shaky breath and took a step back. 

 

“Roger…" Brian said gently, “It’s okay to be scared...”

 

Roger closed his eyes and shook his head as more tears threatened to spill from his eyes. 

 

_ No. I won’t go so low as to cry in front of them. I can’t,  _ he thought to himself. But he could barely contain himself already. He bit his lip hard to keep from crying out.

 

“Y-you can’t say that, Brian. You don’t know what-” he stopped himself before he could say any more. He felt his breath shudder audibly. Biting his lip, he looked at the ground, his long blonde hair covering his eyes. 

“Darling..." Freddie said gently, his expression soft and worrisome, “you look so,  _ so  _ anxious. You look  _ extremely _ overwhelmed, and from the looks of it, you’re not telling us something. You can talk to us, dear”

 

Roger let a sob escape him, the band all gasping quietly. John placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, letting Roger fall into him. Breathing heavily, he pushed away from Deaky using the last bit of strength in his arms, struggling to keep his breath in check. 

 

“I-I’m sorry-” he stuttered, feeling his walls crumble down. He liked his walls. They were supportive. They protected him from everything else. But goddammit,  _ why _ can nothing protect him from what was to come?

 

“Roger, it’s alright. You’re struggling with something, we can all tell. But it’ll make it easier to deal with if you tell us, honey” Freddie said, his soothing voice sounding like a song. Roger let himself weaken. For just a moment. 

 

But not for long. 

 

“You said you were anxious about something. What are you afraid of? I  _ promise _ Roger, it doesn’t make you any less of a man," Brian coaxed. Deaky bit the inside of his cheek. 

 

“Roger," John said quietly, “Does this...have anything to do with going to Japan?”

 

“ **Fuck-** ," Roger said out loud, covering his mouth immediately in shock, “I-I mean--of course not-”

 

Roger tried to talk, but his words sounded jumbled. The hand at his throat gripped tighter. His head hurt, his stomach was railing, his hands shook. Fuck. He would  _ not _ do this here.

 

“Roger," John said quietly, “you’re shaking”

 

He heard Freddie inhale rather sharply.  _ No,  _ he thought to himself,  _ no, no. Please. Not here, alone, in the studio, just anywhere, not with them. Please, please please- _

 

“Roger...are you having a panic attack?”

 

Brian’s serious voice finally popped the question, and Roger felt himself slowly deteriorate. He took a weak step forward, and sighed a shaky breath. He nodded, feeling a single tear drip down his face.

 

“Roger...how long have you been having these? I thought they stopped after we met Freddie…” Brian said, analyzing the situation,  _ of course. _ Roger felt horrible. Of course he didn’t tell Brian that he’d been having them again. 

 

“Oh...you’re having a panic attack? Oh,  _ god _ darling, you  _ did _ look very tense before you took off...you could have told Brian-you could have told _ any _ of us..”

 

John sighed worryingly, a look of concern on his face, “...is that what you’ve been doing for the past few hours...?”

 

Roger winced, feeling his face grow hotter and hotter with embarrassment, but nodded shamefully. 

 

“Fuck," Brian said under his breath, “why the hell didn’t you tell us? We could have talked about it, we could have  _ done _ something about it”

 

“I-It’s not a big deal-" Roger huffed. 

 

“Darling…," Freddie started, but Roger had taken a step back, his breath becoming heavier and heavier.  _ I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t- _

 

“Freddie..," he whimpered tearfully, his voice breaking, “...I-I can’t breathe-”

 

“Darling, it’s okay to be scared," Freddie murmured.

 

“I’m not...scared." he said loudly, his voice wavering. It sounded very unconvincing. Freddie walked closer and embraced the blonde, holding him up to his chest. 

 

“Oh god, Roger. I feel  _ terrible _ about all of this," Brian said. 

 

“Shut up," he said, his voice muffled through Freddie’s shirt, “I-I’m not scared”

 

“Darling, talk to us," Freddie said quietly. 

 

Roger couldn’t take it anymore. He hiccuped a small sob, and burst into tears, grasping onto Freddie as a lifesaver. Tears streamed down his soft cheeks as he clenched his eyes shut and cried his eyes out. 

 

All three men gasped as Roger broke down, his toned shoulders shaking violently as Freddie struggled to keep hold of the man. 

 

“Fuck..." Freddie muttered, “  _ God _ , I thought there was something bothering you-but I didn’t know that you were this upset...”

 

Roger shakily pointed to the couch as the four of them made their way to it, Roger still clinging on to Freddie, loud sobs wracking him. 

 

“I’m sorry," he hiccuped, “f-for what I s-said. For all the  _ horrible _ things I said. I just couldn’t-”

 

Roger was cut off by another large sob that wracked his body. They all felt horrible for the drummer. 

 

“Hey, Roger, remember to breathe," John said gently, an arm around the man’s shoulder. Roger nodded and started taking deeper breaths in, deeper breaths out, his entire body still shaking. 

 

“It’s all forgiven," Brian said, rubbing a soothing hand down his back. John nodded in agreement. 

 

“But Roger. That isn’t the only reason why you’re so anxious, is it..?," Freddie asked cautiously. Roger shook his head and breathed heavily. John had made a run to the kitchen to make some tea while Roger calmed down. Freddie and Brian tried to get the man to stop crying in the meantime. 

 

“Careful, it’s rather hot," John said, passing everyone a cup. They all nodded gratefully as Deaky sat back down. Once only a few tears were making streaks down his cheeks, Roger exhaled loudly, and turned to Freddie and the others.

 

“Uhm..sorry about that. I-I’m not really good at talking about this stuff..It’s kind of...embarrassing…," Roger admitted, his face heating up, “but I think you guys deserve an explanation”

 

Everyone nodded, all eyes on the blonde. 

 

“I-It’s a long story but...e-ever since I was a kid...god, it’s stupid, really….I didn’t know how to tell you all but...imterrifiedofflyingandimsorry!” he said quickly, clenching his fists.

 

“You’re scared of...flying..." Brian said slowly.

 

“Yes." Roger said quickly, hiding his face in Freddie’s chest. He felt his heart race. 

 

“Just the thought of them makes me-," Roger stopped himself, biting his lip. He couldn’t even look any of them in the eye. 

 

“Oh, dear..," Freddie said, soothingly, “so this is why you’ve been acting so strange lately. Oh darling, why didn’t you talk to any of us?”

 

Roger whimpered into Freddie, breath becoming shallower. 

 

“It’s a stupid fear. I thought I’d get over it, but I was wrong. I just didn’t want to seem so-so  _ weak _ in front of you," he mumbled. Brian placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder, reminding him to breathe.

 

“We would  _ never _ think bad of you because of something you’re afraid of," John said, “but you should have told us, Roger”

 

“I know," the drummer said quietly. 

 

“Darling, there’s no way we can stop the tour, but we’re gonna figure something out. I’ll call Miami and John, we’ll get you sleeping pills or anxiety meds or--something," Freddie said. 

 

Brian and Deaky nodded. Roger wiped away the rest of his tears as they all came in for a hug. Freddie ruffled Roger’s hair. 

 

“Feeling any better?," Brian asked. 

 

“Yeah," Roger chuckled, cracking his usual smile, “thank you...”

 

As Roger sipped his tea in the shared flat, he couldn’t help but feel...okay. Sure, he still absolutely dreaded flying, and he knew that it wouldn’t be an experience that he’d like to remember, but regardless, he knew that he would be alright. 

 

Well, as alright as he can be. 

  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were going on an airplane tomorrow. They were going to the airport, they were going to get on a private jet, and they were flying to Japan. 24 more hours, and counting.
> 
> And poor Roger was trying his hardest to stay calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearies!! I've decided to add another chapter, and I'm writing a third one about the actual flight, so thanks for being so patient everyone! 
> 
> Everything in this fic is platonic, just to clarify, I just like my fluffy angsty boys. I decided to add Deaky in there because I felt like writing about him and it kinda just ended up that way. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

******************

It was weird, really. Roger would just be sitting there in the living room, watching TV, or maybe sitting at the table with a drink, and one of them would always pop in and tell him “It’s all going to be okay”.

Strange. They had never done that before with him. Maybe before this, they thought he didn’t need reassurance. Maybe they felt bad that Roger had this fear in the first place. He was baffled. But right now, there wasn’t anyone to tell him how “okay” everything was going to be. Because he turned off his lights, with 22 hours and counting before they were flying, and claimed he was taking a nap. 

A minor anxiety attack and a nap are very different things. But they do have one thing in common: they can happen in your room with your lights turned off. But that’s about the only thing. 

He would otherwise love the attention he was getting from the band, but getting  _ babied _ ?  _ pitied _ ? He was tired of it. Roger didn’t like how much of a baby he was acting over this, and he most certainly didn’t like this new status of weakness he had earned. He was tired of the band constantly being cautious with him, as if he were delicate, made of glass. 

So he was taking a “nap”. And trying not to think about planes. 22 hours and 30 minutes. And counting. 

********************************

“Deaky, darling? I got the meds!” Freddie burst through the door, holding a plastic bag with presumably a shit-ton of medication. John was busy folding Roger’s clothes in a suitcase, so Roger wouldn’t have to even think about it. They all just wanted this to be stress-free and for everything to be okay, and Roger having to do as little as possible was the approach they all agreed on. 

“That’s great, Fred. Brian should be done his meeting with the roadies and our manager any minute now” John replied. Freddie chuckled and put his bag on the table, unloading various things from it. 

“What’s in the bag?”

“Well, the pharmacist, a  _ very _ beautiful woman who looked  _ fabulous _ in white, might I add, told me to get him Xanax for the flight. I wasn’t sure if Roger got sick or not on planes, so I bought these Ginger Chew things, they’re all natural and made out of ginger so it won’t mess up his medication, it’s supposed to settle your stomach...” Freddie continued, “I got some painkillers for the trip...I found these  _ cute _ little tiny neck pillows for all of us...oh! And I got us Melatonin tablets for Japan! Jet Lag can be a bitch, my dear!”

John chuckled. Freddie had always been one to over-prepare and worry like mad over the people he loved. It was one of the best qualities John found in Freddie, he had such a big heart. 

“I got some lemonade too, and it’s  _ pink _ lemonade because why the fuck not?!” Freddie shrieked, whipping out a carton.  _ When did they start selling food at the pharmacy? _ , John thought to himself. 

But in this case, John noticed, it wasn’t just Freddie’s usual hysteria that was shaking the household. In fact, Freddie seemed a bit more level-headed right now, (if that was even possible). And as worried as Deaky was, it seemed that-

The door flung open. Brian practically flew in, hair disheveled, his eyes heavy with stress.  _ Yep,  _ John thought,  _ he was a mess. _

“I had a meeting with everyone, they all know about the situation, and agreed to let us have the front of the plane since it’s a big jet apparently and I got the plane info and met the pilot and--has anyone packed his suitcase?--where  _ is _ Roger?--Freddie, did anyone get his meds yet?--Oh god, I-”

-It seemed that  _ Brian  _ was the one who was mostly a mess lately. Stopping to catch his breath briefly, he shrugged his coat off and bit his lip, walking briskly through the kitchen and not even bothering to greet the two men. 

“Where’s Roger? Is he-”

“Darling…” Freddie walked over to the man, putting his hands on the tall man’s shoulders, “you need to breathe, dear. It won’t do any good if you dropped dead of suffocation, now would would it?”

Brian fell silent, and almost  _ glared  _ at Freddie. Of course, the flamboyant man stared back, their eyes locked. You see, everyone  _ tried _ to upstage Freddie, but when he needed to, the man always persisted.

The staring contest continued for at least another minute or so. No one moved. Hell, John thought that for once  _ Freddie  _ would be the one to break the stare, but Brian finally gave in, exhaling loudly.

“I’m sorry…” the curly-haired man said quietly, “it just seems like everything’s going to go wrong tomorrow…”

“Roger’s taking a nap. He’s here at the house. It’s okay,Bri.” John said. Truthfully, he did feel bad for Brian. Him and Roger have known each other the longest, and even  _ he _ didn’t know this little tidbit about their drummer.

“Deaky just finished packing, and I got everything else we need. So just relax for a bit, darling. Stop worrying.” John watched as Brian’s face tinted pink as he looked at the ground. 

“There we go, dear. That feels better than rushing about, doesn’t it?” Freddie smiled, and John sometimes wondered how the hell that man could be so convincing and reassuring. It’s like the moment you even  _ look  _ at him, everything bad just washes away. 

Brian nodded, and John heard him take another breath as he buried his head into Freddie shoulder. “I’m sorry, Fred. Really. I just feel like I’ve failed him...as a friend, a band mate, and-”

Freddie cut the man off by bringing a finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Now, now. No need to talk like that. None of us could have ever known, and he obviously didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone. It’s no one’s fault, dear!” Freddie said, pouring pink lemonade into a cup, sipping it, and grabbing his keys and jacket.

“I have to run to Mary’s, I’ll be back before dinner. Explain to Roger what we’re giving him once he wakes up, and  _ please  _ call me if anything gets out of hand!” He said, sauntering over to the door and walking out.

The room was silent for a moment, before John set the packed bag down and walked over to the table.

“Let’s see, here. Melatonin for sleeping in Japan...Freddie’s weird lemonade...ginger chews...Xanax! Here it is! Alright, it says to take one 0.5 mg pill 1-2 hours before the flight...Hey Bri, do know if Roger has taken Xanax before?”

“How would I know? I claim to be his friend but I couldn’t even bother to know about  _ this. _ ”

John turned his head up in surprise at the almost  _ miserable _ response.  _ What on earth is he talking about now? _ “Bri?”

He turned to Brian when he was unresponsive, and found the man looked like he was going to cry, his eyes blankly staring off into some place that  _ wasn’t _ here in the flat. 

“Hey, Bri,” he said, “what’s up?”

The worried man blinked and turned to John, clearing his throat, “Thinking. That’s all…”

“Heh, you were always good at that.” John chuckled softly, sitting the man down in one of the dining chairs.

“Want some of Freddie’s weird pink stuff?”

Brian tiredly nodded. Deaky poured a couple glasses, and looked at the Xanax box again, as well as the doctor’s note. 

“You know, you don’t have to feel guilty about Roger You know how stubborn that man can be. He didn’t want us to know, so there was no way of us knowing. Period.”

Brian looked up in surprise. John was never the one to give reassurance, being passive most of the time, but he knew that Brian really needed it. Brian looked at the ground guiltily.

“He told me that they had stopped.”

John looked up. “What?”

Brian looked like he was on the brink of tears.

“His panic attacks. He told me  _ years _ ago they had stopped. A few days ago, if I had known, he wouldn’t have gone through it alone. But he didn’t tell me and I didn’t know and I could’ve helped him. He didn’t…”

Brian trailed off and sniffled, leaning into John, who slowly wrapped the man in a hug. John didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t seem like there was anything Brian needed to hear. So he said nothing.

It was strange, Deaky was always the glue that held the band together, but  _ never _ the rock. He wasn’t the one to hold people when things got bad. He wasn’t the shoulder to cry on, or the one that gives reassurance.

But I guess roles change as do the circumstances.

********************

Somehow, Brian fell asleep on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around him. John read the medication requirements once again, ripped the tags off the neck pillows, downed the rest of his pink lemonade (which was actually quite good), and decided to start on dinner.

_ Honestly, it feels like I’m the mother of everyone here,  _ John muttered to himself as the pot on the stove started to boil,  _ since when did everyone get so worried over things? At least Freddie’s doing alright. But I’ve never seen Brian such a mess in my life. _

He threw some noodles into the pot, and glanced over at Roger’s room.  _ He’s been asleep for quite awhile. And dinner isn’t going to be ready for another half hour, maybe I should show him the meds, now. _

So he grabbed the Xanax bottle and trekked over to Roger’s room, the sound of the TV muting his steps as Brian slept through the whole thing. He made a mental note to wake Brian up when the food was ready.

When he reached his room, he noticed that the lights were off, but the door was open slightly, so he stepped in.

“Roger?” he whispered. He noticed quickly that Roger wasn’t asleep, his shoulders were too tense, and he was lying on top of the blanket. So he flicked on the lights, which proved to be a mistake as Roger shoots up from his bed and stares at him in surprise, tears streaking silently down his cheeks. 

“I-I thought I locked the door--” he stuttered, eyes widened. John doesn’t say anything, before dimming the lights and walking over silently. 

“You doing alright?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Roger sniffled. 

“I’m fine. Just...frustrated.” he huffed, “and  _ please _ , don’t tell me ‘it’s all going to be okay’, I’ve heard enough of that.”

John almost laughed. “You  _ know _ for a fact that I haven’t, and won’t say that. Especially now that I know it’s making you frustrated. I’m guessing that means you don’t want Brian or Fred in here?”

Roger rolled his eyes humorously, “Please, no, I don’t even know what’s wrong with them right now, but they’ve been babying me for the past two days. It’s weird!”

John snickered. So he wasn’t the only one noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. Roger climbed over the bed and sat next to John on the edge, sniffling every few seconds. 

“Anything you need to talk about?’ he offered, finally breaking the silence. Roger sighed, and tried to wipe his tears away. 

“It’s just--everyone’s been telling me that’s everything’s going to be fine. But they won’t except the fact that I just  _ hate _ flying. They won’t let me get anxious about it,and they’re acting like I’m incompetent. It’s just...annoying…” he admitted, inching closer to the bassist. 

John kind of understood it; no one wanted to listen to Roger, they only wanted to make it all better, and for everything to be over with. 

“I’m sure they don’t even know they’re doing it. They’re really worried about this, Rog. Even Freddie looks like he’s at his wit’s end..” John chuckled. Roger nodded solemnly, and let the dim room go silent, before Roger broke it. 

“Do you...do you think Brian’s mad at me?”

John looked up in surprise, “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

Roger fidgeted with his fingers, shrugging. “I don’t know...I didn't tell him about this, and we’re supposed to be best friends. I didn’t tell him that my panic attacks came back, but it’s not like I get them very often so I thought it’d be fine if he didn’t know. And he’s been acting really weird around me, I just…”

Roger trailed off, sniffling again before John realized that he was crying again. Louder this time. John considered waking up Brian or even calling Freddie, but it didn’t seem like Roger needed any more hysteria right now. So wordlessly, he scooped up the man up and hugged him. Deaky hugs are rare, but they’re even more special if you ever get one.

“I’m sorry,” Roger sniffled, “I’m just so  _ stressed.  _ I just want this all to be over so I can play in Japan and forget about flying. But it’s just-”

“I know flying is hard for you. You must be absolutely terrified right now. But we’re here, Rog. We’re here.”

And John didn’t need to say anymore because Roger flung his head into his chest and sobbed about how he hated this, and he hated how weak he was, and it felt like all the young man’s insecurities were being washed out of him like a tidal wave.

Once the crying had died down, Roger cleared his throat and climbed out of his embrace. “Thanks, Deaky.”

John smiled and stood up. 

 

“Want some of Freddie’s drug store lemonade? It’s actually not half bad!”

 

Roger giggled. “What the  _ fuck _ did Freddie do?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the next chapter (and presumably last chapter) is coming soon. Deaky is underwritten, sue me darlings. If you guys have any prompts or requests, please inbox me! 
> 
> I'm going to be inactive for a week because of vacation stuff, but every comment I get sends this warmth to my heart that people are actually reading my stuff.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally...the dreaded day comes. The day they fly to Japan
> 
> *FINAL CHAPTER!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well everyone, it is confirmed that this is the final chapter of this little series! I hope you guys enjoyed this, I sure enjoyed writing about it, and considering this was my first Queen fic, thank you all for being so patient as my talentless self attempts to entertain you all!!

After some much needed rest and reassurance, the dreaded day had finally come. Freddie was at the point of where his head was completely in the game, and he was focused on nothing and everything at once: from leading the roadies to deciding which alcohol would be served on the plane. Sure, the manager should be doing that stuff, but Freddie had made it clear that he preferred doing it himself. They all found it strange, but Freddie was Freddie after all. There never really  _ was _ a normal with him. 

As for Brian, John and him had a talk while Roger fell asleep later that night about...stuff. Brian admitted that he was being just a “little” too overprotective, but agreed to tone it down. But just a little bit.

John, of course, being the resident “mom friend” drank the last of the pink lemonade much to Freddie’s dismay, and focused on making sure everyone was feeling as relaxed as they could. He was good at that.

As for Roger, the poor man’s mind was in shambles, his face showing only clear distress since the moment they all woke up. He’d given up on hiding it, he was scared. Scared out of his fucking  _ mind. _ And to be honest, he didn’t really mind being babied, especially if that meant he got Deaky’s hugs. 

********

Clinging helplessly to Brian, who smiled reassuringly and brushed back his blonde locks, the bandmates started walking toward the bus that would take them, and the whole crew, to the airport. 

They hopped onto the bus as Freddie gingerly handed the roadies their suitcases, sitting comfortably near the back of the bus. Once everyone was on, Freddie cleared his throat. 

“Alright my dears!!” Freddie clapped his hands twice to get everyone’s attention, “The bus is going to bring us right to the entrance of the plane! We’ll unload our shit from there, and get right on. It’s gonna take us about 45 minutes to get to the airport, so hang tight, you whores!”  He winked seductively as the roadies chuckled tiredly. 

“Oh, and one last thing. Drinks are on me!!” 

The the bus erupted into whoops and hollers as the driver stepped on the gas, and the bus sped away. 

Roger grasped onto Freddie’s arm as the singer sat down, dark circles under his eyes due to lack of sleep. 

“Just try to sleep a bit on the way there, Roggie.” Freddie whispered to him, ruffling his hair playfully. So Roger closed his eyes, breathing in Freddie’s perfume as he drifted off to sleep...only to be woken up by Deaky tapping his shoulder lightly. He groaned.

“Rog, we might as well take your pill now. It takes at least an hour to kick in, so it’s perfect.” John handed him a bottle, of water, which he groggily took, taking  a few sips before falling into Brian’s chest and trying not to worry. 

*******

Everyone talked amongst themselves, laughing and whooping as they slowly neared the airport. Freddie at some point moved to the front of the bus, sharing a few drinks with the roadies and giggling at dumb jokes. 

If any other occasion, Roger would also be partying (and, of course drinking) with the rest of them, but instead he was holed up in the back of the bus with one of Freddie’s many neck pillows in between Brian and John waiting for his Xanax to kick in.

Sounded a lot like hell to him.

*******

As the bus neared a slick jet plane right on the tracks, Roger’s head felt...lighter. Almost like he  _ wasn’t  _ about to fly on a plane. That maybe it would be fine. That thought soon plummeted as he realized that the plane was fucking  _ humongous.  _ He felt his heart start to race.  _ Breathe, Roger. Just...try not to think about it.  _ He tried to distract himself, turning to Deaky. 

“John? Are we flying above the ocean?”

John laughed, “that’s the entire reason planes  _ exist _ . The ocean is all around us, Rog. How much Xanax did you fucking take?” he joked. Roger chuckled. The first laugh he’s had in a couple days. 

“Alright, chop chop! It’s go time!” Freddie yelled, practically pushing the roadies off the bus. The runway was large, the jet only a few yards away as the roadies started hauling suitcases and equipment from off the bus. 

Roger swallowed nervously.  _ This is it. Fuck. _

Freddie was chatting with Miami and Reid, a checklist in his hand, pointing different people to different places. Roger felt his eyes start to water.  _ Why was he such a  fucking baby? _

“Rog?”

Brian and John must have seen his miserable expression. He looked beside him, and Brian took his hand and lead him over to the side of the plane.

“Come here, this is the entrance to the plane. You walk up these portable stairs and just get right on. Would you feel more comfortable if you saw the outside of the plane before going in?” Brian asked, “You can take your time. We won’t leave until you’re ready.”

Roger pondered for a moment. The plane looked like a fucking deathtrap. I mean, it looked  _ terrifying _ , and Roger didn’t even want to  _ think _ about how that thing kept airborne. He shivered and felt his throat constrict. 

“You alright?” Brian asked gently, holding onto the drummer’s clammy hand. Roger gulped, and nodded his head slowly.

But he couldn’t take his eyes off the plane.  _ How does it stay in the air? What happens if there’s a storm? What if the pilot is inexperience and crashes us? What if we all die? What if I have a blood clot in my brain or my heart and the cabin pressure bursts it and I die? I read somewhere that can happen...What if… _

Roger found himself breathing heavily, leaning into Brian unsteadily. Why did he feel so fragile all of the sudden? Like he was gonna--

“Rog? You look a bit pale...Bri, he’s looks like he’s gonna pass out. Brian. Bri, we gotta--” John’s worried tone was cut off as Roger stumbled, losing his balance and falling into someone’s arms.

_ W-what the fuck? _

He saw black spots in the corner of his vision, and all he could do was stand there in presumably Freddie’s arms, as he heard someone whispering, “dear” over and over until he came back to reality. 

“What….?” He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the sunlight.

“Welcome back, Rog. I think you might have gotten a little light-headed. Do you feel disoriented at all? Do you know where you are?”

Roger thought for a moment as his mind caught up to him, and he immediately remembered where he was. That  _ plane. That fucking plane.  _ He felt his stomach drop. He just couldn’t do it.

“Guys..I-I can’t go on that thing..I’m sorry!” he said nervously, burying his face into Freddie’s chest as he felt his eyes get steamy.  _ Fuck. _

“Oh, dear..Bri, can you let everyone else know that they should get loaded on the plane? The four of us will get on last.” Freddie asked the tall man, who nodded and walked over to the crowd of people.

Freddie lifted the man up, and let him bury his face into the crook of his neck.

“Roger. I know this is extremely hard for you. But we’re going to make it as comfortable as possible for you. We’ll stay out here in the open until everyone gets on, and then we’ll get on. You’re going to be okay, Roggie. I promise, dear.” Freddie said, kissing his forehead. Roger stared into the man’s eyes, persistent as always, and nodded hesitantly, closing his eyes and letting a few tears fall silently. 

The wind hollered strongly in the openness of the runway, and Roger felt himself get colder. Brian came back and the four of them watched as everyone loaded themselves and their stuff onto the plane, Roger’s face buried in Freddie’s long, fur coat.

“Ready to go on?” John asked. Roger shuddered and shook his head quickly. 

“ I feel sick…” he said quietly, his voice shaking. John hummed in sympathy, and Roger closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his mouth.

“Rog, there’s two people who’d like to meet you. Are you okay with that?” Brian asked. Roger didn’t lift his head, but muttered a ‘sure’. 

He heard the footsteps of Brian and John walking away, and the murmuring of comforting words that Freddie was whispering to him, until he heard muffled conversation of multiple people coming closer, and someone calling his name.

“Now, you must be the famous Freddie Mercury. Very pleased to finally make your acquaintance!”

Roger opened his eyes and looked up to a tall, dark-skinned, curvy woman with brown hair tied back in a bun. She smiled widely, and shook the singer’s hand, who smiled warmly back at her.

“And you,” she said, turning to the blonde, “must be Roger Taylor. I’m Nancy Miller, and I’m the pilot of this plane.”

She turned to the scrawny red-haired man beside her, also in a uniform, “And this is Ollie Cartwright, he’s the co-pilot.”

The freckled man smiled at him, and Roger sniffled and straightened himself out. 

“I already talked with Brian yesterday, and I had a talk with him and John just now. They informed me that you get very, very anxious around planes. Is that true?”

“Yeah…” Roger said shakily, giving them a teary look. 

“Here, why don’t we walk a bit to the right so we don’t have to face the plane. Would you guys stay here while we just chat with Roger for a bit?”

The boys nodded, and Roger pulled away from Freddie and Nancy put an arm around him, leading him away from the plane. 

“There we go. Feel a bit better away from the plane?” she asked him. Roger nodded slowly, eyes still filled with unshed tears. 

“You seem really stressed right now. Have you had bad experiences with flying before?” Nancy asked. Roger hesitated.

“Yeah...it was.. _ loud _ and high up, and there were...a  _ lot _ of people...and I felt sick, and it just felt like we could crash any moment and die--I-I’m not a big fan of heights in general, and it was just…” Roger let his voice trail off. 

“Are you taking any anxiety medications for the flight?” Ollie asked. Roger nodded. 

“Yeah, I took Xanax about 45 minutes ago...but it doesn’t seem to be working…” 

Ollie smiled. “Well, lucky for you, it’ll kick in any minute. We can’t persuade you to not completely fear flying,  _ but _ we can answer any questions you have. Really, no question you have is dumb.”

Roger nodded. He  _ did _ feel a bit better knowing that he was in the hands of experts. 

“Okay..uhm..how does the plane...stay in the air? It looks too heavy..”

“Well, airplanes have special wings called airfoil wings that help it fly. As a curved airfoil wing flies through the sky, it deflects air and alters the air pressure above and below it. Since we’re going so fast, it creates large wind currents that help keep us in the air with the help of the wings. Your friend Brian studied Physics, right? I’m sure he could explain more to you about Physics if you’re really curious.” Ollie replied, smiling, “And don’t worry about us crashing. The odds are 1 in 11 million!”

Roger nodded. He strangely felt better knowing how the plane actually works.

“Well..this might sound rude but...how experienced are you?”

“Me? I’ve got 25 years of flight and military experience. Ollie’s got 22. We know what we’re doing, so don’t worry about that.”

Roger breathed deeply.  _ Okay. It’s okay, Roger.  _

“Well, I read somewhere that blood clots can burst due to cabin pressure and could possibly kill you...Is that-”

“You would know if you had a blood clot. When was your last trip to the doctor’s?” Ollie asked. 

“About a month ago.”

“Your doctor would know, and you would be able to feel it. You would be informed right away if they thought a blood clot is forming.”

Roger didn’t know if it was the meds finally kicking in, but for the first time in 3 days, his head felt clear. He figured the pilots saw how relaxed he suddenly felt, because Nancy put a hand on his shoulder and Ollie called his bandmates over.

“Everything alright?” Brian asked, frowning. 

“Yup!” Roger said enthusiastically. Brian and John’s eyes widened, and Freddie burst out laughing. 

“Dears, I think the Xanax is finally kicking in!”

The pilots led the four of them onto the plane, and Roger’s shoulders relaxed, every minute the medication making him more and more calm. The roadies were situated in the middle of the plane, already clinking glasses and laughing roughly. The managers and producers were a little ways forward, chatting amongst themselves over a bottle of champagne. 

Freddie, Brian, Roger and John were situated closest to the front, enough buffer seats to have quiet. The plane was built so 4 could sit next to each other, the seats being in the middle instead of the sides, which were rows in which one could get out and walk left or right instead of the middle like normal planes. Roger giggled to himself. How quirky this plane was. Very unlike the one he went on. 

They made their way to the comfortable seats, Freddie and Brian sitting on the ends and John and Roger sitting in the middle, Roger between Brian and Deaky. A few flight attendants introduced themselves, reminding them that they would be around to help when needed, and the pilots patted Roger on the back as they made their way to the very front. 

“Darlings, I need my beauty sleep as you know.  _ Please _ don’t wake me up unless its an emergency!” Freddie demanded, pulling a sleeping mask over his face and adjusting his neck pillow, “sweet dreeeeams~”

After about 15 more minutes, and the flight attendants demonstrating how to put on life jackets and masks in case of emergencies, Nancy finally announced through the speaker that the plane was set for takeoff. 

Roger felt calm; he knew it was just the meds doing their job. But he also felt his chest flutter. Not in its usual pit of dread whenever he thought about flight, but still a lingering nervousness in him. 

As the plane jolted to life, John pulled out a book and read silently as Brian sipped on champagne.

“I’m really scared, Bri.” Roger choked out, smiling nervously at the curly-haired man, “like-like I don’t  _ feel  _ really scared, I just know that I am...if that makes sense..”

Brian just smiled and squeezed the drummer’s hand as the plane sped up, it’s wheels leaving the ground. 

Roger felt his stomach drop, almost like he was on a rollercoaster, and he closed his eyes forcefully as he felt the plane jolt harshly. 

But he was okay. He wasn’t dying. Or crashing. Or freaking out. He knew it was most likely the Xanax talking, but he felt pretty good. 

Maybe he  _ could _ get the hang of this whole flying thing.

The plane shook . He jumped. Heh. Maybe he spoke too soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the power of anxiety meds save the day! But seriously, I know a lot of people that have to take Xanax for different anxiety reasons (I never have!) , and I know that the reaction to meds is different for different types of people, but coming from observation, I hope this was accurate enough!
> 
> If you're sad that this story is over, don't worry! I'm literally an angst/hurt/comfort machine because it's all I write!
> 
> I have the Deaky one I've already posted, I have a Freddie one coming soon, a Brian one, and yes, another Roger one ALL COMING SOON! Kudos and comments are appreciated, thank you for reading this far!!


End file.
